


by her side

by dreamsheartstory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, F/F, Fluff, Mistletoe, Yule, all the feelings, it's fucking magical, none of the deaths that really shouldn't have happened, others show up but their presence is nominal, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8896516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsheartstory/pseuds/dreamsheartstory
Summary: Winter arrives in Polis just in time for the Yule celebration and Lexa decides she wants Clarke by her side and everything that entails.--------------   “How is it so cold?” Clarke presses her nose to Lexa’s sternum.“It’s the beginning of winter,” Lexa replies softly, almost laughing. She runs her hands across Clarke’s hair, smoothing the mess of blonde down. “Today is the start of the Yule celebration..."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jude81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/gifts).



> This fic was requested by Jude81 as a reward for being one of my patreon patrons! If you want to know more about it or ways to give back to your author check out [my support page on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/supportme).

Polis woke up to a blanket of snow on the ground and on top of the roofs and tents. Everything was quiet, hushed, and white. It was like a world transformed overnight.

Clarke wakes up, her cheek cold where it’s exposed to the air, but her nose is warm pressed between Lexa’s shoulderblades. They’re nearly submerged beneath several extra layers of furs that Lexa had asked the tower staff to bring up late the previous night. While she was accustomed to the harsh winters, Clarke and the rest of the  _ Skaikru  _ were not. They’d never experienced adverse weather conditions let alone snow and ice.

Clarke makes a high pitched whine in the back of her throat as she wakes and scrambles to press close to Lexa who is practically radiating heat, her skin nearly damp with sweat.

Lexa rolls over and pulls Clarke too her breast even though she wants to throw the furs off and cool down. She wants Clarke close to her more than anything else. After nearly losing each other too many times she can’t keep herself from cherishing each moment alone together as if it’s precious. Her comfort seems secondary to the feeling of a heartbeat against her skin. Clarke is her comfort.

“How is it so cold?” Clarke presses her nose to Lexa’s sternum.

“It’s the beginning of winter,” Lexa replies softly, almost laughing. She runs her hands across Clarke’s hair, smoothing the mess of blonde down. “Today is the start of the Yule celebration. There will be plenty of warmth and food and delight for the next several days” Lexa sits up, the furs pool around her waist.

Clarke opens one eye and looks up at Lexa skeptically as the cool air of the room hits her, she isn’t distracted by the site of Lexa half naked above her, even as she enjoys it and knows she will never tire of it, “What exactly  _ is _ this celebration for?”

“The trees,” Lexa says with a gallic shrug and a hint of a smirk.

Clarke blinks a sly smile curving her lips before she can stop it, “Is this because your clan is the…  _ Trikru _ .”

Lexa rolls her eyes and purses her lips before hitting Clarke in the shoulder with a pillow. Clarke squeals and laughs, rolling against Lexa’s side to hide it. She feels light waking up next to Lexa, as if together they could take on anything, side by side she feels most alive.

“The celebration also honors the land and the bounty of the summer harvests and hunts. It’s an old tradition.” She admonishes Clarke almost as if she were an impertinent small child. Slipping from their large bed, she traces her fingertips of her left hand along the broken lace filigree carved into the wood as her right hand raises in sympathy to the still pink flesh scarred on her stomach. The wound in the wood still looks fresh, but unlike her, it will never heal.

Clarke rolls over and wraps a fur around her tightly, “It’s December now, yes?”

“December?” Lexa questions as she starts to dress in her Polis clothes, soft fabrics made for warmth and layering and relaxing.

“The month.” Clarke sits up grumbling in the cold air and wrapping her arms around herself as she hops across the ice like stone to the old armoire. 

Lexa raises an eyebrow at Clarke as she hands her socks. “You mean moon cycle?”

“Kind of.” Clarke tips her head side to side trying to remember how long it takes the moon to complete a phase. If she’s counted her days right they’re almost to what would have once been considered the new year. Not that it matters much anymore. “We kept this old Earth tradition this time of year called Christmas.”

“What do you do on Christmas?” Lexa fits the word around her mouth in all its foreign sounds.

“We exchange gifts with those we care about.” 

Lexa nods solemnly as if Clarke has given her a valuable insight into her people. 

Clarke pulls on pants, shivering and trying to have a semi-serious conversation with Lexa watching her intently while she dances around trying not to freeze to the spot. “How are you not cold?”

Lexa shrugs, “Who’s to say I’m not?”

Clarke scowls and Lexa cracks a smile.

“Maybe we can introduce the _ Skaikru _ traditions to our people this year. During the ceremony our clans could exchange gifts perhaps.”

“And you and me?” Clarke takes a step forward and slips her hands underneath the edge of Lexa’s shirt. Lexa flinches and Clarke grins as she steals a kiss.

“I have everything I need in you.” Lexa brushes her noses across Clarke’s, “But if you wish it we can exchange gifts.”

Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist and burrows against her for warmth. “Nothing ostentatious. Something small… I just, I have something in mind already.”

Lexa trails the back of her index finger along the curve of Clarke's cheek, “As you wish.” She slips her hand into Clarke’s and squeezes. “You're going to need to finish getting dressed unless you've somehow developed an impervious skin in the past five minutes, which, from the looks of things you haven’t,” Lexa bites her lip and drags her gaze back up to Clarke’s face, even as she reaches out and flicks her thumb across one of Clarke’s nipples already hard with the cold. “Because we have places to be today. The ceremony takes a lot of preparations and it's my job to make sure it all happens.”

“And why does this involve me going out in the cold?”

“You’re…” Lexa pauses, her cheeks flushing, “My partner, and I would like to show you Polis like you haven't seen it before, with me, by my side.”

Clarke leans into Lexa and kisses her softly, she's smiling too big to kiss her properly. It still takes her by surprise when the all powerful  _ Heda _ melts in her arms and is no more than the young woman that Lexa hides away deep inside. She feels privileged. 

“Show me your people, Lexa.”

“Our people, Clarke. Your people will always be my people, and now… I want you to think of mine as yours.” It's been more than a single moon cycle since Titus nearly tore them apart forever and Lexa is facing uncharted territory without the guidance that charted the course of her life. The previous commanders are in her head but they have no direction for her in this and are happy to stay silent. None of them understand the direction she is going so she doesn’t bother to reach out.

The halls of Polis tower are colder than Lexa's room had been when they woke up. The fireplaces were lit after they woke which Clarke had pointed out before they dressed. Lexa had countered that meant her staff would have to enter with them in bed if they were to be lit before… Clarke had ceded and asked for more furs for the bed and the floor. 

In the town square there's a tree that when she first arrived had towered above the space throwing shade on laughing squealing children and vendors selling fruit and sizzling meat. It had been the last warm days of fall. 

Today the air is clear and there's a silence that hangs in it until they round the corner and they can see the tree hovering above them. The branches are heavy with snow, and it dampens the echoes. 

Clarke's breath catches in her throat. The fir tree towers above them as always, but set in the lower branches up as high as someone can climb are candles burning bright. Children frolic in the square throwing balls of snow at each other, bundled head to toe in so many furs it’s impossible to tell who is who. Along the edges vendors sell little things, and meats sizzle on grills, and in place of fruit stalls there are stands with wine warmed with spices, and ale on tap, and teas made from melted ice and snow and winter herbs.

She doesn’t notice as Lexa slips away from her, too awed by the sight and the smells before her. The people of Polis are alive in a way she hasn’t seen yet, there’s a calming joy in the air, a reprieve from the daily tensions of life.

Red ribbons are tied in bows adorning trees and people alike. It’s unlike anything she’s ever seen before. Fires burn in pits cleared of snow, people huddled around for warmth laugh, some sing. She almost recognizes some of the tunes, but the words to her are foreign. Mixed with the grounders that call Polis their home are the remaining  _ Skaikru _ . The longer they stay in Polis the harder it is to tell them from the grounders that are their neighbors. They are  _ Skaikru  _ in name only, almost people of the ground now.

Lexa is right to think of their people as one.

She sees them slipping into this new world with open arms. Those that chose to come that is. Clarke tries not to think about those that refused to follow her and Kane in joining Lexa. Clarke’s thoughts derail as she feels Lexa’s hand on the small of her back, almost sliding around to her waist.

It’s rare that Lexa touches her in public. The people have their rumors about  _ wanheda _ and their  _ heda _ , but Lexa’s given them no proof of the relationship before their own eyes, and Lexa’s staff and guards would never reveal where Clarke spends her nights. Clarke turns into the touch and she feels Lexa lean in. Lexa presses a warm mug into her gloved hands and Clarke almost tears off her gloves to feel the heat against her cold fingers.

Clarke isn’t certain if she wants to hold the mug or crawl into it more.

“Drink it slowly, it’s hot, and it’s alcoholic.” Lexa whispers against her cheek.

“I think we’ve proven that I can hold my liquor before,” Clarke quips.

“ _ Skaikru _ liquor is nothing like this.”

Clarke sips at the drink and does half a turn in joy into Lexa’s arms as sweet spice bursts on her tongue. She forgets for a quarter of a second, with Lexa so close, and the spices on her tongue warming her from the inside, that their people are watching. In her joy she’s almost betrayed their secret.

Quickly, she kisses the edge of Lexa’s jaw and pulls back. “Merry Christmas, Lexa,” she whispers hoping she didn’t overstep.

Lexa’s eyes flick up to the latticework above them and then back down to Clarke’s lips. She takes half a step forward and closes the distance Clarke opened up.

Clarke looks up to see a green branch tied to the beam above their heads. “What’s that?”

“Mistletoe. Another Yule tradition.” Lexa takes the mug back from Clarke and swallows a third of it down, stealing down her courage with the warmth. “If you find yourself underneath it, you have to kiss the one next to you.”

Clarke doesn’t have a chance to process Lexa’s words before Lexa’s lips are on hers. She expects a chaste kiss, a quick kiss, enough to satisfy tradition, maybe even something on the cheek, but Lexa draws her in until she almost forgets the others around them. Almost. A cheer goes up somewhere in the crowd, and it’s echoed tenfold. 

Lexa pulls back, cheeks flushed, “Happy Yule, Clarke.”

\-------------------------------

 

At the base of Polis tower is an old building that’s survived for half a millennia, and in it that night will be every citizen of Polis. There are rows and rows of tables in the open hall, heavy wooden ones that will be laden with food for all and enough to take with at the end of the night. In between the tables and on the edges of the hall blaze fires in makeshift fire pits, the smoke escapes through holes in the high vaulted ceiling that’s blackened from years of use. The lengths of the side walls sport banners for each of the clans, and at either end the symbol of the coalition. This is neutral ground. At the far end of the hall a length of table is raised clearly made for Lexa and the ambassadors of the thirteen clans. Only honored guests of Polis sit there.

If Lexa had her way all of the  _ Skaikru _ who had pledged to the new clan would be elevated that day, but there are too many, so they take honor next to the  _ Trikru _ at the foot of the head table. Clarke hasn’t seen Lexa in a couple of hours, after she excused herself to take care of some last minute preparations that Clarke is almost certain have to do with gifts between Lexa and Kane, who is technically in charge of  _ Skaikru _ . Kane’s been missing as well.

Clarke leans across the table and sets down a series of cards in front of Raven and Gina with a smug grin as she discards her last card.

“You’re joking!” Raven slaps her handful of cards onto the table with a huff.

“Again?” Gina groans. She turns to Bellamy, who’s half wrapped around her, “I thought you said you would be my good luck charm?”

“Sorry, I didn’t know Clarke was a card shark,” he laughs and kisses her.

“Alright, count ‘em up,” Octavia grumbles as she scribbles down her own score on a chalkboard they found. Clarke is currently winning by a few hundred points, Monroe somehow coming in second. Raven is losing terribly having not been able to lay down any cards before Clarke has gone out each hand.

“Whose deal is it?” Monty asks.

“Harper’s I think.” Clarke responds as she starts piling up the three decks and doling them out to be shuffled. 

Lincoln climbs onto the bench behind Octavia and wraps around her. Her frown turns into surprise. “Holy fuck you’re freezing.” She practically jumps up but can’t because the table is in her way.

“Here,” Lincoln says and sets down a mug of steaming mulled wine. “I was outside helping  _ Heda _ with something for tonight.”

Octavia turns and kisses Lincoln on the cheek before double checking that she has all the scores from the round and wrapping herself around the mug of wine.

It’s been nearly two months without an attack, the cold weather turning everyone but the  _ Azgeda _ from the idea of battle. There’s no telling how long the peace will last, but for now at least, the addition of the  _ Skaikru _ to the coalition does little but raise up grumbling from some of the more adversarial clans. Two months of peace feels like a lifetime, as if they’re starting to fit in down here on the ground. They’ve found a pocket in this world that might let them call it home.

Clarke steals the mug of wine from Octavia and takes a sip.

“What  _ is _ Lexa planning for tonight?” Clarke pries. Lexa had that look in her eyes earlier as if she was up to something big. But despite having opened up to Clarke, if Lexa wanted to keep a secret she was as good as a locked box.

“Nothing I can say,” Lincoln shrugs. “Those that need to know, know.”

Clarke swears she can see the hint of a smile on his face, but he’s hiding behind Octavia. “You know I could just go ask Lexa…”

“Then why ask me?” Lincoln shoots back.

Clarke mock scowls and turns back to the rest of the table not having expected for Lincoln to call her bluff so easily. She could ask Lexa, but she knows that since Clarke is here with her friends, and not with her, that whatever the plan is, it’s something intended to be a surprise for her as well. She’s glad though to see everyone again all at once. Despite the peace everyone has been busy, diligently working to prove  _ Skaikru’s _ worth to the people of Polis, and with Clarke staying in the tower, assisting Kane with the politics of the coalition when she can, she’s had little time to see her friends.

She’s half tempted to ask Kane to make her a liaison between their people and him, but right now that would mean a lot of time spent traversing through the snow, and even with the furs she’s been given she isn’t sure she wants to take that on yet.

The clunk of a large steaming pitcher and several mugs being slammed down on the table pulls Clarke from her thoughts.

“Scoot,” Anya taps Raven’s shoulder indicating she needs to make room.

“Why me?”

Anya shrugs and nudges Raven with her hip as she settles in at the table. There isn’t really enough room so the two, stubbornly, end up half in each other’s laps. They glare at each other, but Clarke can tell when Raven is pointedly not smiling and this is one of those times.

“So am I dealing everyone in, or are we actually going to finish a full game for once?” Harper asks picking up half of the shuffled cards with a sigh.

Bellamy sets about pouring mugs of mulled wine for everyone. “I’m still watching, trying to figure out this game.”

“What are you playing?” Anya asks.

“Liverpool Rummy,” several voices echo.

“I’ll watch,” Anya replies. “See if Raven can teach me.”

“She’s losing, so that’s about all she’ll teach you how to do,” Octavia grins. Raven sticks out her tongue in reply.

“And you?” Lincoln asks.

“I’m doing better than Raven.”

A rumble starts up at the far end of the hall near the entrance, cheers and foot stomping and banging on tables. The crowd that’s already gathered, less than a third of the expected attendees, surges to its feet. A pungent aroma of spices and meats hits the group a few minutes later.

“That must be dinner,” Bellamy says in awe as he sees the procession push through the crowd, huge trays made to line the tables. 

The first three are set along the head table, and then the food bearers start working their way back. It’s extravagant and wonderful, and like all the food in Polis has been, better than most anything the  _ Skaikru _ have ever eaten. Including the dishes they were given in Mount Weather. 

Next the hall starts to fill with the residents of Polis and the guests from far off clans. Not everyone makes the journey but it’s clear by the garb worn that each clan has a sizeable contingent, even those that are several days away on horse. Last to enter are the ambassadors, and behind them Lexa in a floor length gown that shimmers in the dim flickering light, her face is free of war paint, though her eyes are lined and there’s an ethereal glow to her skin. 

Clarke feels severely underdressed knowing that she’ll be sitting beside Lexa tonight. She’d prefer them both undressed and tucked away in Lexa’s bed instead of on display for the whole town to see, but Lexa’s never asked Clarke to take her side before in public. Raven catches Clarke’s eye across the table and raises an eyebrow; she’s one of the few that know about Clarke’s relationship with Lexa, though Clarke is guessing that after the kiss they shared in the town square earlier today and what will surely happen tonight, it won’t be a secret any longer. She shrugs and chews on her lip.

A tap on her shoulder makes Clarke jump and she turns to see Lincoln holding out his hand. Octavia gives her a look like she has no idea what’s going on either.

Lincoln leans in and whispers in Clarke’s ear. “ _ Heda _ implied you might like to change before you joined her once you saw the procession.”

“And we couldn’t have done this earlier?” Clarke tries to get up discreetly as possible to not alert anyone else to the fact that she’s about to become a part of the evening’s entertainment.

“I thought we had more time.”

Clarke follows Lincoln out of the hall and into an antechamber. The room is warm for which Clarke is grateful as she sees a change of clothes laid out on the table. A simple black gown, and a pair of shoes that look entirely impractical for anything but show. Beside them are kohl and a mirror.

“Some of  _ Heda’s _ handmaidens are waiting if you require their aide.”

Clarke glances down at the dress and the shoes and realizes there are more parts than she anticipated, the dress not quite as simple as it seemed. 

“Perhaps that would be best.”

There was no way she was dressing herself in time to make it out for the end of the procession.

\-------------------------------

 

It only takes the handmaidens a few minutes to get Clarke ready. She’s never had so many people attending to her or touching her at once and she’s not entirely sure she ever wants to again. There’s something completely disarming about being cozy in furs one minute and trying to figure out how to stand in heeled boots the next.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror before she steps back out into the hall. Her hair is pulled back but still hanging long, her eyes kohl dark, and yet she looks cleaner than she has since they landed. The dress fits her perfectly and she knows Lexa had a hand in that. Still it feels foreign on her skin, as foreign as the way she looks. She looks like she belongs here with the  _ Skaikru _ emblem pinned to her shoulder.

The belonging is shocking and comforting all at once.

Lincoln tugs at her elbow and Clarke realizes she doesn’t have time to think about what tonight may mean. This is more than the ceremony where Clarke swore fealty to Lexa on behalf of the  _ Skaikru _ ,  _ wanheda _ kneeling to  _ heda _ . This is an echo of Lexa kneeling to Clarke later that night, the acceptance of their people as aligned. As one.

Clarke blinks in the dimmer light of the hall trying to adjust to the dark. Lincoln’s lead her back in closer to the head table which is further from the nearest fire than she had been. She can see her friends a few tables away and realizes then that she won’t be going back down there. All the seats on the dais are taken except two at the center. Lexa is mysteriously missing.

A hand wraps around her elbow, much smaller than Lincoln’s. Clarke turns to find Lexa at her side, a small smile on her lips. “You look lovely, Clarke.”

“What are we doing, Lexa?” Clarke takes a moment to process what Lexa has said. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to talk to you before everything started but preparations took longer than expected.” Lexa whispers. “But don’t worry, tonight you’re just my… guest…” The last word is almost a question.

“Date?” Clarke supplies.

“Yes, date. I haven’t had many chances to make use of that word.”

Clarke takes half a step closer to Lexa and lets her hand fall to Lexa’s waist. “Does that mean you don’t mind your–”

“–our–” Lexa purses her lips. 

“–our people learning about us?”

Lexa dips her head next to Clarke’s, her lips just brushing her ear, “I thought I made that clear this afternoon. If you’ll have me fully I want you by my side.”

Clarke wants to lean into Lexa all the way, tangle up in her, kiss her and touch her in ways that shouldn’t happen in public despite if they’re letting people see them together or not. She turns her head and presses a light kiss to the soft skin behind Lexa’s ear. Lingering a moment longer than she should, she takes the skin lightly between her teeth. Lexa’s breath catches in her throat and Clarke straightens up.

Even in the dim light Clarke can see the way the tips of Lexa’s ears go red as she dips her head. A giddiness overcomes Clarke knowing the power she has over the most powerful woman on the ground.

“I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough,” Clarke says quietly. Her hand slides down Lexa’s arm until she can twine their fingers. “I’m right where I want to be.”

A hush goes up in the hall as Lexa leads Clarke up onto the dais that holds the raised table. The clans stand then kneel before their leader, even the ambassadors.  _ Skaikru _ follows slowly urged on by the  _ Trikru _ scattered amongst them. Clarke can just make out Anya and Lincoln and her friends. From up here it feels like there are thousands in the room, waiting for the signal from Lexa to rise, to drink, to eat, to celebrate.

When Lexa lets go of Clarke’s hand she isn’t sure if she should kneel or stay standing, what honor, if any, does being the heda’s  _ date _ , her  _ partner _ even, give her? She taps the back of Lexa’s hand with a finger. When Lexa turns to her she slowly makes as if to kneel. She’s done this once before, she can kneel to Lexa again, knowing what it means between them. 

Lexa shakes her head once side to side and Clarke straightens up so she’s done an awkward sort of curtsy. Lexa bites back a grin and turns to their people her face calm and impassive as ever.

“Join me,” Lexa addresses the clans in English, the only common tongue they all share. “Tonight, this first night of Yule, we honor the trees for the protection and shelter they afford us throughout the year, we honor our brethren that have fallen and returned to the earth.” Lexa raps her knuckles on the table and the clans rise as one to their feet. “Tonight we feast and honor our coalition, joining together as one people.” She raises her glass high, and a thousand glasses follow. “Winter is here!” She drains her glass.

Clarke tips her own back.

Lexa glances to Clarke and she realizes that while the clans start to move toward food, there is more Lexa has to say tonight.

“Before we eat however,” Lexa’s voice rings throughout the hall. “We have a new tradition to honor that our brethren in the  _ Skaikru _ have brought to us. At this time of year they exchange gifts, and they honor us this year not only in joining our coalition but bestowing all of us with a new table for our council, one that will seat us all as equals. And I have prepared for them provisions for the long winter ahead so that they may join us when the spring moons come and we begin our preparation anew.” Lexa steps between a separation in the tables and Clarke watches as Kane follows her. They clasp forearms as the grounders do, and Kane nods in deference. “On behalf of my people I thank you Kane  _ kom Skaikru _ on behalf of yours.”

A cheer goes up around the hall.

“And now we eat!” Lexa cries out, but her words are lost to the din, their people already filling their plates and digging in.

As she turns she allows a smile to break across her face. Clarke tries not to grin, she tilts her head up as she tugs Lexa toward her. “You were planning on doing that anyway,” she says just loud enough for Lexa to hear.

Lexa kisses Clarke softly as she sits down. “You know that, and  _ I _ know that, but the others did not. And I had no time to prepare anything else.”

“And this mysterious table?”

“Commissioned already by Kane, he suggested it some weeks back as a show of gratitude.” Lexa gives a gallic shrug. “We agreed tonight would be an appropriate time to make the announcement.”

“Why the big show?” Clarke scoots closer to Lexa. As they lean closer together they feel like their conspiring in front of everyone.

“Because I want your people to understand that I mean it when I say they are under my protection now, and I want the other clans to understand that this is not something that was done lightly. With each clan that joins the coalition we make sure to honor their traditions in Polis. This is a town of our people. And  _ you  _ are our people.”

At every turn Lexa strives to make sure that Clarke believes her promise, that there will never be another moment where she questions Lexa’s loyalties. There won’t be the faltering retreat like there was at The Mountain, where Lexa came back with her warriors when it was almost too late to save the trapped  _ Skaikru _ .

It’s been months and still Lexa refuses to waver in her dedication though Clarke has long since moved past what happened.

Clarke leans forward, her hand coming up to caress Lexa’s cheek. Her heart feels full to bursting with warmth. Today is a day unlike any she ever imagined she would have. She knows there will be hard days again, but today has been soft and filled her with a sense of peace she never expected to find, not since her life was turned upside down the day her father told her the truth about The Ark.

She kisses Lexa gently, the rest of the hall already fallen away, the chatter so much background noise that she isn’t listening to. Her focus is on nothing and no one but Lexa because Lexa is smiling at her with a soft fondness that melts her heart. Clarke tilts her head, pressing the kiss to continue, even as she feels Lexa smile and the kiss becomes a mess of barely contained giggles like they’re nothing more than two young girls.

“Yo, Griffin,” Raven’s voice cuts through the moment and they snap apart, startled more than embarrassed. “So when were you going to tell us you were banging the Commander?” she calls from where she, Anya, Octavia, and Gina are standing just in front of the main tables. Raven doesn’t hold back the shit eating grin, because she’s known about them for ages, and the others haven’t.

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke whispers, hiding her face against Lexa’s shoulder.

“Don’t be, I know how Raven can be,” Lexa smirks. “It’s about time I made my way around to talk with our people anyway.” Lexa nudges Clarke to standing and offers Clarke her hand. 

“Does this mean we don’t get to sit and eat?” Clarke looks at the tables of food around them and her stomach rumbles.

“Usually. You can sit here or stay with your friends if you prefer.”

Clarke squeezes Lexa’s hand and is rewarded with a shy smile. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Lexa makes her way to the edge of the dais and jumps down, not bothering with the stairs at either end. She lands effortlessly right in front of Raven. “We thought Yule, or well, this Christmas of yours, was an appropriate time to share the good news.” Lexa leans in close and whispers in Raven’s ear, though loud enough for those nearby to hear. “And I assume you mean banging as in fucking?”

Raven’s jaw drops and Clarke nearly crashes to the ground as she follows Lexa off the dais, stunned by Lexa’s choice of words. Lexa turns and holds out her hand to Clarke who takes it like it’s a lifeline. She straightens her dress and bites back a grin at Raven who’s looking at her stunned. 

It’s definitely been a good day.

\-------------------------------

 

“Why would anyone wear these shoes voluntarily?” Clarke groans as she flops back on Lexa’s bed, still fully clothed, and shoes still on. Several hours later, and a thousand conversations in mixed English,  _ Trigedasleng _ , and other languages she couldn’t pick up, exhaustion has overcome her. 

“Your dress, Clarke,” Lexa intones, as if she shouldn’t be laying down in it.

Clarke pushes up on her elbows and looks down at the fabric that took four handmaidens to get her into, “I don’t even know how to get into this thing, let alone out of it.” She picks at the fabric over her stomach trying to remember, but that was several hours and many glasses of mulled wine ago.

“Do you wish for me to undress you?” Lexa asks softly as she leans over Clarke, her fingers catching lightly at Clarke’s before her hand presses flat against Clarke’s stomach.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Clarke exhales as she drops back down onto the bed hoping for Lexa to follow.

“Be patient, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice is raspy with wine and a night of talking, and Clarke is certain she’s never loved it more. “I have one more thing I wish to do before we retire to bed.”

Clarke rolls her eyes but sits up as Lexa stands again. She watches her as she moves across the room to a small desk near the window. Kicking off her shoes Clarke hops across the cold stone floor, both relishing in the cold on her aching feet and trying to keep the depth of the cold from stinging.

Lexa covers whatever it is she had retrieved by closing her hand and turns swiftly to face Clarke. Her shoulders back she reaches for Clarke with her empty hand and guides her in front of the fire where the stones have warmed and the air isn’t quite as chill. Now that they’re alone her demeanor changes to that which only Clarke gets to see. Lexa is softer, almost shy at times as she shifts her weight back and forth. Yet, still, she’s decisive. 

“I had this made a few weeks ago, so like the other gifts it was already planned, but, as this time of year holds significance in gift giving for you, I didn’t want to wait. Christmas felt like an appropriate time for this.” Lexa steps closer and takes Clarke’s left hand in hers. 

Clarke’s heart flutters in her chest because in the few moments since they crossed the room the atmosphere has shifted. Gone is the light teasing, the long looks between longer conversations, the stumbling over words after answering the same question a hundred times. The Yule celebration is fully behind them. A seriousness hangs in Lexa’s look as if her world comes to a halt as she stands in front of Clarke, and whatever happens next will change its path forever.

How many times have they stood before each other and changed the course of the world?

Opening her hand, Lexa looks up at Clarke, watching her face. Clarke stares at the ring in Lexa’s hand.

It’s simple, there are no jewels, it’s carved from dark almost black wood with thin veins of light brown woven through it the same color as Lexa’s hair, delicate leaves surround two twined hearts. 

Lexa turns the ring over between her fingers, softly rubbing her thumb along the edge.

“When I asked if you wanted to be by my side tonight I should have clarified that I truly meant that,” Lexa catches Clarke’s chin with her finger and gently lifts her gaze. “Not just for tonight, but for all the nights to come.”

Lexa brushes her hand against Clarke’s cheek, as if, for a moment, she forgets where she’s going with her speech, so lost in Clarke’s eyes as she is, that she might just give in to the kiss that they can both feel building. “On the ground, we have a joining ceremony, partners will promise their love before others, that they will always be there for that person, or persons sometimes.”

The breath goes out of Clarke, and all she can do is stare at Lexa as the words tumble through her head. She meets Lexa’s green eyes, glassy with emotion, and feels her heart in her throat. It feels like at any instant one of them might fall to their knees, but they’ve already pledged their loyalty, so they stand as equals in this. Clarke reaches up and tucks a strand of Lexa’s hair that’s come loose behind her ear.

“You’re asking me to marry you.” She breathes out in awe and wonder. It isn’t a question, a statement of clarification almost, the words she’s accustomed to.

“Is that what your people call it? When those who love each other bind themselves together?” Lexa’s jaw trembles. “Then, yes, Clarke, I’m asking you to marry me.”

Clarke surges forward, her hands cupping either side of Lexa’s face as she traps Lexa’s hands between their bodies and kisses her. Tears are already running down her face and she doesn’t care. She nods, unable to find the words for how she feels. Her very soul aches as Lexa kisses her back with all the gentle tenderness she never thought she’d find on Earth. All she can think is that this is a kind of softness, a luxury she thought she’d never have. She kisses Lexa like it’s the first time and she swears she feels their hearts collide, dancing, melding like the hearts on the ring. This moment feels out of time and precious, as if the magic of the snow and the celebration and the season have given them a reprieve from the harsh reality of life.

The kiss ends and she leans her forehead against Lexa’s. Her words are no more than a breathy gasp between messy kisses that are as much punctuation as they are an inability to let go of Lexa in that moment. “Slip the ring on and undress me.”

Lexa meets each of Clarke’s messy kisses with one of her own, trembling, excited, and unable to control the emotion rolling through her. She fumbles between them, not wanting to step back or break their litany of kisses as she feels out Clarke’s left ring finger and slides the ring on. She chokes out the words, “That’s a yes then–”

“Yes, that’s a yes.” Clarke pulls back brushing tears from Lexa’s cheeks not knowing if they’re her own or Lexa’s. “ _ Ai hod yu in _ ,” she whispers.

Reaching behind her neck Lexa unties her own dress with a single tug, and it pools to the floor around her. Clarke bites her lip as she takes in the sight of Lexa before her, seeing her new again, soft even in her evident strength. Even though she’s seen her like this a hundred times, it’s different now. Clarke’s dress takes several expert tugs but it goes the same way as Lexa’s leaving them both nearly nude in front of the fire. Lexa breathes in the moment, returning Clarke’s appreciative gaze before she closes the distance between them once more.

As she lays Clarke down on the fire warmed furs Lexa whispers, “I love you, Clarke  _ kom Skaikru, yu laik ai tombom, ai keryon, ai sonraun _ .  _ Ai na hod yu in otaim _ .”

“ _ Otaim _ .” Clarke echoes. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays everyone! <3


End file.
